This Is Life
by imagination-running
Summary: A collection of one-shots about moments in Percy and Paul's relationship. Because Percy deserves an actual dad, and Paul deserves some recognition for taking on the role of step-parent to a teenaged demigod. All the stories should be rated K plus, but I will put T on here, just in case. Ch.5 Memorial Day is just painful now.
1. A Good Day

" **A Good Day"**

It had been four months since the Giant War had ended. Winter had begun in NYC with a bang just between Thanksgiving and December first, but unfortunately for Percy Jackson, the city rarely shut down for winter weather, which meant that school went on like normal, complete with tests, papers, projects, and all. A couple of other things that didn't stop for snow: Greek monsters and PTSD symptoms.

Though, they had not come out unscathed, everyone was pleasantly surprised by how well the demigods from both camps were handling the aftermath of two back-to-back wars. Everyone was especially happy to note how well Percy, Annabeth, and Nico were managing after Tartarus. That's not to say that they weren't without PTSD symptoms, however. Nico could be easily startled and occasionally had panic attacks where his whole body would shut down, even to the point of not breathing. Annabeth had nightmares a couple of times a week. She would wake up drenched in sweat, often in tears, and she would IM Percy. They would talk until she had quit hyperventilating and was able to either go back to sleep or at least read, study, or get ready for her day. Percy was different still. He frequently dealt with insomnia and had flashbacks once or twice a week. Most of his flashbacks were over in five minutes or less. Either he would realize one was coming on and would shake it off himself, or Annabeth or his parents would be with him and help him ground himself in reality before one could really take hold. However, occasionally, a flashback would catch him on a bad day. He would be alone, off guard, and the flashback would come out of nowhere, sucking him deep into the memory, which he would just have to endure until the end. Those tended to last fifteen minutes or more. All flashbacks left him rattled and confused afterwards, but the after-effects of the bad ones could easily take the rest of the day to shake off. They left him exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically. Thankfully, he hadn't had one of those in nearly three weeks.

One week after Thanksgiving, Percy had basketball practice for two hours after school. On his way home, he had a run-in with a dracaenae, which had cost him his last bit of ambrosia and nectar. Then, to top it all off, he had twenty trig problems to solve and a huge world history test to study for. By one in the morning, his dyslexia was so bad that he just stuffed his math homework in his textbook, the final six problems not even attempted. He was just starting to doze off around 2:30 when Annabeth's IM jolted him back to wakefulness. After an hour of talking to and consoling his girlfriend, Annabeth broke the connection with an apology, an "I love you," and a promise to spend Friday evening at the apartment with Percy and his parents. Percy fell into a fitful sleep, and he woke up so late the next morning, he only had time to throw on some clothes, brush his teeth, grab his backpack and a granola bar, and rush out the door behind Paul.

Unfortunately, Percy's day did not improve. Between being short on sleep and short on food, by the end of his first period class, Percy felt a headache brewing just above his right eye. This only hampered his dyslexia, which had not recovered from the night before. He was quite certain he failed his third period history test and wanted nothing more than to fold himself over onto his own lap on the bleachers and sleep during P.E. However, the coach required that they do something, even though she didn't have anything planned, so he opted for walking the track around the court.

When the bell rang, Percy gratefully headed to his locker to dump in his backpack before going to lunch. But as he passed the chemistry lab on his way to the cafeteria, his day went from bad to terrible with one whiff. The smell of sulfur hit him like a semi-truck, and it was all he could do to stumble into the library a few feet down the hall and collapse into a chair before he was sucked back into Tartarus. For the next seventeen minutes, he relived his first several minutes in Tartarus: the River Cocytus, the beach of broken glass, the River Phlegethon, the sulfuric air, Arachne.

Finally, the flashback released him, and he spent the last few minutes of the lunch period trying to regain his composure and sort reality from memory. His headache had blossomed into a full-blown migraine by this point. The bell rang all too soon, and feeling like he had competed in a triathlon, Percy pushed himself out of his chair to grab his bag and head to English, which, regrettably, was not taught by Paul.

Shakespeare did nothing for his migraine or dyslexia, which led to him spending an unsuccessful sixth hour in study hall trying to complete his trig homework. Percy's final two classes, animal science and trigonometry, passed in a blur of severe dyslexia, headache pain, nausea, and shakiness.

Percy wanted to sigh in relief when the final bell rang, but as his luck would have it, he was taking an after-school SAT Prep class, and with the test just over a week away, he really didn't think he could afford to skip. Besides, they were studying the English portion of the test, and Paul was teaching it. Percy was in no shape or mood to walk home, so he would have to wait anyway. Percy slipped into the auditorium, wincing in pain brought on by the bright overhead lights and the loud chatter and clamor of one hundred other students settling in for the class. He silently prayed to Poseidon that his migraine-induced nausea would not turn into full on puking of stomach bile, seeing as how he had only eaten a granola bar and a fun-sized Snickers all day.

Percy closed his eyes and massaged his temples for a bit before hearing someone clear his throat over the speaker system. He looked up, and Paul caught his eye, giving him a brief questioning look. Percy waved off his concern, and Paul began the class.

It was an hour of torture, probably inspired by Achlys the goddess of misery herself. Percy could barely concentrate enough to pass worksheets and study packets down the row, let alone actually take notes or listen to Paul. He couldn't even summon the energy to wish for a second shot at drowning Achlys in her own tears and poison. He decided that was actually a good thing.

At long last, the class was over, and fifteen minutes later, Paul and Percy were doing a strange skate-shuffle across the frozen lot to the dented blue Prius.

"Perce, are you doing okay?" Paul asked. "You seem a little…out of it."

"Migraine," Percy muttered, lurching forward as he slipped on a patch of ice.

Paul grabbed his arm to steady him. "Did you have a flashback today?" His voice was quiet with concern.

"Yeah. Bad one at lunch. Never got to eat," Percy answered.

Paul stopped suddenly, grabbed Percy, and turned him until they faced one another. "Percy, why didn't you come and get me? I could have checked you out. You could have gone home, taken some medicine, eaten something, gotten some rest."

Percy looked at Paul. "I've missed too much school as it is. Besides, it's only a migraine. I'll live."

Paul shook his head and sighed but said nothing, and they began to shuffle, again. They were two rows from the car, when somewhere in Percy's pain addled mind he thought he heard a growl. He glanced around but only saw a small mixed breed dog at the edge of the lot about fifty feet away. He relaxed and took two more shuffle steps when everything went to pot.

Percy heard Paul yell his name. At the same time, he felt huge claws pierce the back of his right shoulder, rip off his backpack, and rake diagonally down his back. He fell to his knees, blood soaking the waistband of his jeans. He fumbled for Riptide, pulling it out of his pocket, but before he could uncap it, a second huge, hairy paw slammed into his chest, slashing his collarbones, and knocking him backwards, leaving him painfully and awkwardly lying on his own legs. Riptide skittered across the pavement, out of reach, and his vision was filled with a massive, furry head with gleaming red eyes and a mouth drooling in anticipation of fresh demigod for dinner. Percy Jackson, hero and savior of Olympus, was going to be hellhound chow. The beast snarled and leaned in. Percy's heart raced, and his breath caught in his throat. Suddenly, he heard the familiar sound of sword against flesh, and the hellhound exploded in a shower of golden dust. Percy stared up at Paul who was pale and shaking, gripping Riptide in both hands.

Percy groaned. "Paul?" He tried to sit up, gasped in pain, and fell back onto his legs, black spots dancing in his vision.

This seemed to pull Paul out of his shock. Riptide clattered to the ground as he knelt down to help his stepson. He managed to get Percy back to his knees, only for Percy to start swaying on the spot. "Come on, Perce, stay with me," Paul coaxed. He pulled Percy's backpack over. "Where's your ambrosia? Nectar? In your bag?"

Percy nodded slightly. "Yeah…side pocket."

Paul searched the pockets. "Where, Percy? I'm not seeing it."

"Pockets…," muttered Percy, but then he remembered the dracaenae from the day before. "Oh, no…It's gone. I'm out."

"Out! What do you mean you're out?" Percy could hear the panic in Paul's voice. He, himself, was only getting weaker, his thoughts fuzzier. The blood flow from his back hadn't even begun to slow down. He needed help, and he needed it fast.

Paul took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to calm himself. "Okay, here's what we'll do. I'll call Sally, tell her to look for some ambrosia. We'll head home. If she doesn't have any, she can call Annabeth, and have her meet us at the apartment with some. You're going to be okay, Percy. Just stay awake."

Percy grunted in agreement, and Paul pulled one of Percy's arms over his shoulders and started helping him stand. Percy hissed in pain but got to his feet.

"Got your sword?" Paul asked.

Percy patted his pocket. "Yes," he whispered.

"Good," Paul huffed. "Now, to the car."

Painfully and slowly, they managed to get to the car. Paul draped an old towel on the seat and helped Percy get in and settled. Paul had his phone out, dialing Sally before he even got Percy's door closed.

Percy fought to stay conscious the entire ride home. Paul kept up a constant stream of commentary, everything from classes to Sally's novel to Christmas. If Percy got too still or quiet, Paul would shake Percy's knee and tell him to stay awake.

They got to the apartment building faster than Percy expected, but he wasn't complaining. He was to the point of having spots of vision among the black, his ears were buzzing, and everything hurt. Getting past the doorman didn't even cross his mind, but it did Paul's. He helped Percy out of the car and carefully draped the backpack onto his left shoulder. "It'll help hide the slash marks on your back. Do you got it?"

Percy grimaced and groaned but nodded. He leaned on Paul more than he intended as he struggled to move forward. He heard Paul speaking with the doorman but couldn't focus on their words. Soon, however, they were at the apartment door with Paul fumbling with his keys. Then, the door was flung open, and Percy saw a flash of blonde and felt someone gently guiding him into the apartment and to his bedroom.

In no time, he was stripped down to his boxers, and he was lying face down on his bed. He could hear his mom and Annabeth rushing to gather supplies. Annabeth was murmuring about how to heal him and calling him "Seaweed brain." He caught a glimpse of Paul setting his backpack against the wall beside his door. Then, his mom was there with a glass of water with a straw, a square of ambrosia, and an Excedrin. A few painful minutes later, Percy was drifting off into a dreamless sleep with Annabeth holding his hand and running her fingers through his hair.

Percy woke up about three hours later disoriented but pain-free and starving. He took a few minutes to remember what all had happened before getting out of bed, putting on clean clothes, and going in search of everyone else. He was nearly bowled over by blonde and brunette blurs as he came down the hallway. Percy laughed and stumbled back as he hugged his mom and Annabeth, both of whom had apparently been worried and were now speaking simultaneously at ninety miles an hour. He only caught bits and pieces.

"…stumbling in here bloody and pale as death…"

"…no food all day…"

"…migraine…flashback…"

"…woke you up last night…"

Percy continued to smile as he was led to the kitchen table by the women in his life. He sat down across from Paul who was grading papers. He looked up from his grading as the other three sat down. "You worried them," he said to Percy.

Percy smirked. "I gathered that. Women, right?"

Paul just snorted, shook his head, and went back to the paper before him. Annabeth, however, glared. "Don't go there, Seaweed Brain. We had a right and a reason to be worried, and you know it."

Percy looked at her apologetically and squeezed her hand. "You're right. I'm sorry for worrying you – all of you."

Sally shook her head. "It's not the first time, and I doubt it will be the last. But, seriously, Percy, you've got to take better care of yourself. You hadn't had enough food or sleep. You had a flashback and a migraine. You should have come home for your own health. I know you can't help the monster attacks, but you can help your immune system. Please, Percy…"

Percy sighed. "Okay, mom. Yeah, you're right. I'll try to do better."

"Thank you. That's all I ask. Now, about that food. You just stay there, and I'll warm up your plate from dinner," she said as she got up and walked toward the refrigerator.

Annabeth stood up, too. "I'll be right back. I'm just going to grab my book bag from the other room." She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. "I'm glad you're feeling better," she said as straightened and walked off.

Percy heard the scratching of Paul's pen on the paper he was grading, and he fidgeted in his seat as the memory of Paul standing over him, sword in hand ran through his mind. After all he had faced as a demigod, it was embarrassing enough to get bested by a simple hellhound, but to have to have your battle fought and won for you by a mortal… Mortified was too small a word. Percy felt his cheeks flame as he cleared his throat. "Hey, Paul?"

Paul looked up from his grading. "Yes?"

Percy gulped. "Um… Well, I'm sorry, first of all. It's my job to protect you from the Greek monsters, and uh, I failed at that today – rather spectacularly. So, yeah, sorry about that."

Paul opened his mouth to say something, but Percy ignored him and plowed right on through with what he had to say. "And, secondly, thank you. I'd be dead if it weren't for you. I don't know what you saw, but you killed a hellhound. It was inches from turning me into dinner, so, uh, job well done and thanks. I owe you one."

Percy dropped his gaze to the table. All was quiet except the sound of soft footsteps as his mom and Annabeth made their way back to their seats. A plate of food appeared under his nose as his mom sat down beside him. Immediately, Annabeth dropped her bag onto the floor and sat down on his other side. Percy glanced at his mom who was sipping her nightly cup of chamomile tea. "Thanks, mom." She just smiled at him.

"Percy."

Percy looked at his stepdad. Paul had a serious look on his face, but there was a touch of humor and something else that Percy couldn't place. Paul stacked his papers. "You're welcome. And after taking part in saving the world at least twice, I'm pretty sure you don't owe me anything."

Paul stood up, grabbing his pen and papers. He walked around the table and squeezed Percy's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, son." And he walked out of the room.

Sally stood with her tea, kissed the top of Percy's head and followed Paul without a word. Annabeth glanced over and smiled at him.

Percy felt his chest swell just a bit as he grabbed his fork. The day had turned out pretty well afterall.

* * *

A/N: This is my first fanfic in years and my first Percy Jackson fic ever. Hope you liked it. Please read and review. Thanks!


	2. Honeymoon Destinations

**Honeymoon Destinations**

 **Disclaimer: PJO and HOO are owned by R. Riordan, not me.**

Percy flung the door of his locker shut. Another school day done. Always a good thing, Percy thought. He casually walked toward his mom's fiancé's classroom. Paul had told Percy about his plan to propose to Sally Jackson at Percy's fifteenth birthday party. Percy had decided the right thing to do would be to tell Paul the truth about the gods and his own life before Paul popped the question. So a week later, Percy, Sally, and Paul sat down, and Percy dropped his bomb on the guy. To Paul's credit, he took it a lot better that Percy had expected, but Percy suspected that Paul didn't quite believe it yet either. However, two weeks later while they were spending Labor Day weekend at Montauk, Paul followed through and proposed to Sally. She had been on cloud nine ever since, planning a simple, small ceremony and reception for halfway through October.

Percy had rarely seen his mom as happy as she had been the past couple of weeks. In what was quickly becoming the most difficult year of his life, it did his spirits a lot of good to see his mom so happy. Paul was good man, and if Percy was dead by this time next year, he was glad to know that his mom had Paul. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving her alone.

Percy was nearly at Paul's door. He shook his head to clear it of his morbid thoughts and schooled his features before entering the classroom. "Hey."

Paul looked up when Percy entered. "Hey, Percy. I'm just about ready to go."

Percy came to stand beside Paul's desk. As usual, his desk was messy and cluttered. Percy thought that was funny because Paul was usually tidy and organized, but he could never keep his desk clean. Stacks of papers and folders scattered the surface, along with a caddy of office supplies, a laptop, a smattering of pens and highlighters, and strangely, a pile of hotel and resort brochures. Percy wasn't sure what to make of that until he caught the address of a couple: Atlantic City. A conversation with his mom a few days ago ran through his mind.

* * *

Sally had been sitting at her desk, reading something on the computer when Percy came into the room.

"Working on your novel?" Percy asked.

"No," his mom sighed. "Looking at possible wedding venues. Most of them are rather expensive and extravagant."

"What about the beach?"

"Well, that was thought, but then I decided it would probably be rather awkward for Paul."

"Awkward? How?"

His mom turned and looked at him. "A vacation there is one thing, Percy, but to be getting married at the same spot your bride met her former lover and conceived their son would be awkward for anyone and rather cruel of me, to be honest."

Apart from creating a few more mental images than Percy really needed, he could see how that would be a little weird. "Oh, that makes sense. So what part of all this is Paul planning?"

His mom turned back to her computer. "The honeymoon. He insisted, and he wants it to be a surprise. I won't know where we are going until we are there."

The conversation continued on for a few more minutes before his mom turned on the news, and Percy began to clean and sharpen Riptide.

* * *

The sound of Paul stacking papers and organizing them into his messenger bag brought Percy back to the present. Looking again at the pile of brochures, Percy felt his stomach flip. Atlantic City, he thought. He knew that would be the last place his mom would want to go on her honeymoon. But how to tell Paul that?

"Ah, there." Paul shouldered his messenger bag. "You ready to go, Perce?"

Percy looked up and grinned. "Yep."

The pair walked out of the classroom. Paul flipped off the lights and made sure the door locked behind him. They headed toward the parking lot, and Percy tugged on the shoulder straps of his backpack. "So, uh, Paul, Mom says you're planning the honeymoon."

Paul turned his head and gave Percy a suspicious look. "Yeah, I am, and it's supposed to be a surprise."

"Yeah, she told me that. It's just that I saw the brochures on your desk. You haven't made any reservations yet, have you?"

Paul stopped walking, continuing to look and sound suspicious. "What's this about? Is your mom sending you to spy on me or something?"

Percy laughed as the image of himself tricked out in a tux, armed with a handgun, racing across Europe in a sports car, and introducing himself as "Jackson, Percy Jackson" flitted through his mind. Now, there was a disaster waiting to happen. He shook his head. "No, I'm not spying or anything." He quit laughing and his voice grew serious. "It's just, I know for a fact that Mom wouldn't want to spend your honeymoon in Atlantic City."

Paul noticed Percy's change in attitude and now looked worried. "And why is that? There's plenty of fun things to do there."

Percy began to walk again. "I know that. The thing is, though, when she married Gabe, he insisted that they go there for a honeymoon. Beer, gambling, cigars… I'm sure he had a great time there. I don't think Mom found it so enjoyable, though." His voice trailed off as he watched his feet walk across the school's threshold.

It was uncomfortably quiet for a few seconds. Then Paul cursed under his breath. "No doubt you're right that she wouldn't want to go there. But now, I'm back to square one. I was really hoping to avoid the beach for our honeymoon…No offense. I just…"

"I get it," Percy interrupted. "It makes sense. Anyway, I know it's not really my business, but could I make a suggestion?"

"Hit me with every suggestion you got, kid, because I got nothing." Paul clicked a button on the car remote, and the doors unlocked.

"One time, Mom mentioned that she had always wanted to see Niagara Falls. She said she was going to treat herself to it one day. Stay at a B&B and see the falls."

Paul looked thoughtful for moment before a smile slowly spread across his face. "Niagara Falls, a B&B…That's not a half-bad idea, Percy. I like it."

Percy smirked and opened the car door. "I have my moments."

Paul just laughed and got into the car.

* * *

A month later, Sally smiled softly and leaned into the side of her new husband as they stood on the observation deck overlooking the falls. The spray coming off of the falls misted down onto them as they listened to the roar of the water.

Sally looked up at Paul. "How did you know that I wanted to come here?"

Paul grinned and winked at her. "A little birdy might have mentioned it."

Sally laughed. "Well, I guess I owe a little birdy a batch of blue chocolate chip cookies."


	3. Driver's Education

**Driver's Education**

Percy was ecstatic, like bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning from ear to ear ecstatic. His class had taken the written portion of the driver's exam in driver's ed today, and he had passed with flying colors. It was literally one of the best grades he had ever gotten, and he couldn't be more proud of himself or excited for getting behind the wheel of a car. He chuckled lightly to himself as he jogged to Paul's classroom at the end of the school day. Paul may regret telling my mom he would help me learn to drive, Percy thought.

* * *

Percy walked right into the classroom, waving a slip of white paper like a flag above his head. "Paul! Paul, guess what!"

Paul looked up from his laptop and smiled at Percy for a moment, and then he saw the paper in the teen's hand and paled ever so slightly. "Oh, don't tell me that, that's what I think it is."

Percy broke into a wide grin. "You know it! My driving permit. I passed the written test with a 94%!" Percy practically yelled that last bit, clearly just as over the moon with his grade as with the state's permission to operate heavy machinery in the largest city in the United States.

"What was that state trooper thinking?" Paul mockingly asked, but he couldn't hold back his smile. Percy was so genuinely and thoroughly happy that Paul could only feel surge of pride and happiness for his soon-to-be stepson. Though always laid-back and ready with a good sense of humor, Percy tended to be far too serious, brooding, and worried lately. Paul had recently learned that Percy was a demigod, and that an ancient Titan was threatening to take over the world. Percy was often involved in what he called "small quests" to throw a wrench in the Titan's plan. Apparently, the demigods were preparing for a large-scale attack within the year, and Paul got the feeling that Percy was one of the central figures in the conflict, though Percy had yet to confirm this hypothesis.

Percy laughed. "So, how about those driving lessons? I could drive us back to the apartment."

Paul did his best to not let it show, but he was pretty sure his heart skipped a beat before taking off at twice the normal speed. However, Percy, ever watchful for evidence of fear in the people around him, noticed Paul's distress, no matter how small it was, and Percy's smile shrank back a bit as he carefully folded the permit and slipped it into his wallet. "Hey, no worries, Paul. I'm just messing with you. We're going to start driving practice in class tomorrow, and mom and Chiron have already let me do a bit of driving, anyhow."

Percy was trying to mask it, but Paul still heard it. A trace of disappointment laced his words. That somehow his efforts to do well with learning to drive were in vain. That Paul wasn't proud of him after all. And Paul thought, too, that there might have been just a touch of resignation in Percy's voice and posture. That he possibly thought that nothing would ever be good enough for Paul; that he would always just be this extra baggage that Sally carried through her life. And suddenly Paul felt anger course through him. He would not be Gabe 2.0 in Percy's life. He would not be the absent, godly father that needed Percy. He would be the dad that Percy needed, the man who Percy could look up to, respect, and make proud. He would be the man in Percy's corner for once, and it may be a small thing compared to a war with a Titan, but he would start standing in Percy's corner now, with this: teaching Percy to drive.

He reached out and put his hand on Percy's shoulder. "Hey. I told you I would teach you to drive, didn't I?"

Percy nodded, his mouth hanging open a bit, looking confused.

"I meant it, Percy," Paul continued, releasing Percy and grabbing his messenger bag. "Sure, it may be a little nerve-wracking, but it would be a nerve-wracking experience no matter which of you hoodlums in this school are behind the wheel. Now, let's go. I've been waiting my whole life to have a chauffeur." Paul gave Percy a quick wink, and Percy smirked.

"Whatever you say, Miss Daisy," Percy replied, referencing one of Sally's favorite movies.*

Paul gave Percy a good-natured shove towards the door. "Smart aleck."

Percy just laughed and flipped off the lights. The two walked out of Goode High School exchanging insults and laughing, and Paul thought that being in Percy's corner just might turn out to be one of the best places he'd ever chosen to be.

* * *

*The movie is _Driving Miss Daisy_ starring Morgan Freeman.

A/N: This was not the story I was originally intending to write, but it's the story that came out. I hope you like it. Please R&R. Thanks.


	4. Stubble

"Stubble"

Paul stared at the screen of his computer. He had his lesson plan program open. Beside him sat the brand new textbook the department had ordered over the summer for the tenth grade English classes; it was still shut. He was only a month away from the start of the new school year and had accomplished exactly nothing towards getting prepared. His classroom was still in boxed shambles. His lesson plans were non-existent. He hadn't bought any supplies. He hadn't even entered the names of his students in his grade book. He felt like he was walking in a daze. He could sit down to work, get distracted, and suddenly half a day would have gone by while he just sat doing nothing, lost in his worries and thoughts. He had been this way since the previous December when Percy had gone missing. Things had only gotten worse after the news they had received last month.

They had hope, at first, that Percy would return soon. He always had before when he had disappeared unexpectedly. Then, the days turned into weeks, which turned into months, and there was no trace of him, no messages, nothing. It was as if he just dropped off the planet. Then, in June, finally a message – a short 17-second message on Sally's voicemail. Percy's voice was once more heard in the apartment, and after so long, hope was back. Then, less than two weeks later, the worst possible news came: Percy and Annabeth had both fallen into Tartarus. Tartaus. Hell. His son and son's girlfriend were literally in Hell. Processing that was all but impossible, but they were down there. It was a fact.

Devastation had hit him and Sally hard. Nothing could have ever prepared either of them for that. No one had ever dropped into Tartarus – not and survived to tell the tale, anyway, as far as Paul knew. It was as if someone had just doused their flame of hope.

Finally, about a week after news of Percy and Annabeth's fall, came more news. Annabeth, the genius that she was, had somehow gotten a note to Camp Half-Blood from Tartarus. No one knew how she had done it, but it was proof that both she and Percy were still alive, still trudging through that abyss on their way to close the Doors of Death, whatever that meant. It wasn't much, but it was enough to inspire hope. They had survived their fall. They had passed through a portion of the land of monsters without dying. They had a chance to sleep (because according to Annabeth, she had had a dream about some statue and a girl named Reyna). They must have eaten because the note was on a napkin that was smeared with pepperoni grease and pizza sauce. Maybe, just maybe, they could make it through alive. Hope was back.

However, they had heard nothing since then. Iris messages weren't working. Annabeth's cell phone kept going to voicemail, and no one at the camp had heard from the crew of the Argo II since that note from Annabeth. They did manage to talk to Grover once since learning of the note, and he insisted that he thought that at least Percy was alive because of the empathy link. He had said he was also reasonably certain that Annabeth was alive because of all the feelings that he was able to sense, grief wasn't a major one. Though, Paul got the impression there was a lot the satyr wasn't saying. Regardless, they were able to keep their small flicker of hope alive with that conversation.

If all of that wasn't enough, they had just also discovered, only ten days ago that Sally was pregnant. She was expecting their baby, and they were both simultaneously overjoyed and heartbroken about that. They were excited to be having a baby. It was something they had talked about since before they were even married. They had always wanted to expand their little family, and when they had said something to Percy about it last fall, he had beamed at them and assured them that he loved the idea. Now it was happening, and Percy wasn't here. Paul couldn't help but wonder if this was supposed to be some kind of message to them from the gods. As if the beings on Olympus were trying to say, "You won't get Percy back, but here, have this baby as a replacement." He would never think of his baby as a replacement or consolation from guilt-ridden gods. If Percy never did come back, Paul wouldn't ever forget about him or stop missing him just because there was another child in the apartment. Paul knew that Sally felt the same way.

At this point, they were both about ready to break into Olympus and slap some sense into the gods. Recently, Sally had gotten in touch with Frederick Chase, and from the conversations they had had, the Chase family would help with the slapping the gods thing. Apparently, several years ago, Frederick had even outfitted a small plane to shoot celestial bronze bullets that he had fashioned himself from some of Annabeth's old weapons, and Paul knew for a fact that Percy kept a small arsenal of weapons and armor in a trunk at the foot of his bed. Paul figured that they could do more than slap the gods, assuming they weren't blasted to bits first, that is.

Now, it was August third. He had lesson plans to make. Sally was supposed to be working on her book. He thought he could hear the clicking of her keyboard, so maybe she was making some headway today. It was nice to know that at least one of them was accomplishing something. Of course, she could just be writing a letter to Percy. It had become one of her coping mechanisms, to write him a letter about whatever was going on with her and Paul. Some weeks, she didn't write one at all, and then other weeks, she would write nearly every day. Paul didn't know whether to encourage or discourage it because what if Percy didn't come back, but it seemed to help her. He couldn't deny her one of the few things that helped ease her depression, even if it meant that she pretended that Percy was only on a vacation and would be back any day rather than fighting in a war against powerful immortal beings on the other side of the world and walking through Hell.

Paul stood to get a glass of water. He rubbed his temples, though it did nothing to assuage the headache that had lodged itself there permanently over the past several months. He was tired. Of course he was tired. He was lucky if he got five hours of actual sleep a night any more. He tugged is pants back up. He wasn't eating a much as he once did, and most of what he ate any more were blue cookies and pancakes, another one of Sally's coping mechanisms. She said it made her feel closer to Percy, like she was keeping a promise, keeping hope. He reckoned it was something similar to keeping the porch light on for someone. Though, they did their own apartment version of that, too: a lamp in the living room window. That was Paul's way of keeping hope.

Paul sliced off a piece of homemade cinnamon raisin bread to go with his water. He really should eat something. It was nearly noon, and he had had nothing to eat, unless you counted the toothpaste he had probably swallowed while brushing his teeth that morning. Since finding out that she was pregnant, Sally had made a pointed effort to eat two small meals a day and have some hearty, somewhat healthy snacks around, hence the raisin bread. Last week had been banana nut muffins.

"Sally?" he called as he stuck his head around the doorway to look into the living room.

She glanced up at him from her place at her laptop. Her glasses were perched on the end of her nose, and she had her novel notebook open beside her at the table. "Yes, dear?"

"I'm getting some raisin bread. Do you want anything to eat?"

She thought for a moment. "Maybe just a slice of the bread and a glass of milk. I'm not real hungry since having that breakfast this morning."

He nodded and went back into the kitchen to get the requested food. He wandered back into the living room and took a seat beside Sally on the couch. She pushed back her makeshift desk, also known as a tray table, as he sat a napkin-wrapped slice of bread on her lap and handed her a glass of milk. She smiled at him. "Thanks."

He nodded as he took a bite of his bread. They sat silently as they ate their bread. Once he was finished, Paul looked at her laptop. "Were you able to work on your novel any?"

Sally nodded as she swallowed the last bite of her bread. She took a sip of milk before answering. "Yes, actually. I just…I don't know…Today's a good day, I guess. I don't know why, maybe that I slept better last night than I have in so long. I just feel more at peace. That doesn't make sense, I suppose. It probably won't last, but I thought I should capitalize on it while I could."

Paul put his arm around her and kissed her forehead as she leaned into him. "I'm glad today is a good day. There hasn't been enough of those lately."

She reached up and squeezed his hand that was holding her shoulder. "You're right," she whispered.

They were quiet, again, for a minute before Sally pulled back and looked at him. "How about you? Did you get any planning done?"

Paul sighed. "No. No, I guess not. Maybe I should take a sabbatical this semester. I can't seem to get my head in the right place, and I'll do the students no good at this rate. I could work on a paper I've been toying with on the writings of Mark Twain. My friend Alex from the MLA has been wanting me to be one of the presenters for the convention for years, I could use the time off to research and write the paper and go to the convention. Maybe a change of pace like that would help."

Sally leaned over and kissed him softly. When she pulled back, she cupped his cheek in her hand. "You do whatever you need to do, Paul. I'm behind you one hundred percent. This has been a terrible ordeal, and you have been wonderful throughout all of it, despite it being just as hard on you as it has been on me. If a sabbatical is what you need, then that's what you should do."

He pulled her into a hug, tears pricking his eyes with love for this wonderful, gentle woman. How she could be so sweet, kind, and caring after all she had been through, he would never know, but he would also never take it or her for granted. At least the fates had smiled down on him in that regard.

Just as Paul was about to suggest going out for a walk and maybe having a real lunch at the diner around the block, there was a knock at the door. It was a timid knock, and it sounded vaguely familiar to Paul. The couple pulled apart and stared at the door for a moment before the knock sounded again. Sally shook her head and called out, "Just a moment. I'm coming."

She and Paul stood and walked over to the door. Paul stood back a bit as Sally checked the peephole. She gasped. "Oh gods!" She scrambled to unlock the deadbolt and slide the chain with shaking hands. Paul knew that whoever was behind that door had to do with Percy. He stepped forward and twisted knob with one hand and put his other hand on the small of Sally's back. He pulled the door open, and there stood Percy Jackson.

Percy was shifting nervously from foot to foot, fiddling with his pen with one hand and rubbing the back of his neck with the other. He looked at them with sad, tired eyes that finally locked onto Sally. "Mom." He said it like he was seeing a dream. His chin quivered, and his voice was raspy.

Tears began to slip down Sally's face. "Percy. My baby." She pulled him into the apartment in a tight hug. Paul closed the door and turned to find the two locked in an embrace. Percy was at least a head taller than Sally, but he still had his face buried in her shoulder. He was broader across shoulders than he had been in December, but he was a lot thinner than he should have been. His joints were too bony, and his skin was pale and covered in new scrapes, cuts, and scars. The worst part, though, was that Percy was clinging to his mother and crying in a way that was more characteristic of a five-year-old child than a nearly seventeen-year-old young man. His body shook with quiet sobs from months of pent up emotions. Paul couldn't begin to imagine what his step-son had been through the past several months, but if what was happening in that apartment at that moment was any indication, it was nothing but agony and terror.

Sally cried, too, as she gently carded her hand through Percy's hair, muttering little soothing statements in his ear. She rubbed his back and let her son try regain his composure. Paul came close and gripped Percy's shaking shoulder. He could feel the bones through the boy's t-shirt. At last, Percy calmed down and pulled back from his mother only to turn and hug Paul fiercely. He was still shaking, and Paul could feel just how thin he had become through his quest. "Thank you," Percy whispered to him. Paul didn't even know what Percy was thanking him for, but he pulled the young man closer for a moment.

Then Percy stood back from both of them, wiping his face with his shirt sleeve. The nervousness from before was back. He looked toward the floor, his head hanging in what looked like shame. "I'm so sorry." His voice was thick with remorse. "I'm sorry," he repeated, pushing his hand through his hair. "I tried to send messages, but there was so little time and as usual, nothing was working. And I couldn't even remember either of you for the longest time, and I know you were worried. Chiron said you know what happened in Rome, but even after we got out, Annabeth had lost her phone in the fall. Iris-messages weren't working. I couldn't ever figure out how to make international collect calls because I never had the correct change for the phones, and I didn't have time to search for a post office while fighting off monsters on the stops that we made in Greece. And then there were the big battles to fight and funerals to attend and formal alliances to make and meetings to have, and I just barely got away this morning. I would have been here a couple of hours ago, but I got stopped by freaking monsters three times on my way here because some of them apparently just ran from the battle when everything finally turned in our favor, and gods, I'm just so sorry!"

Somewhere near the beginning of that speech, Percy had started pacing, gesturing widely, pulling at his hair, and talking faster. Paul had never seen him so distraught, and once Percy was finally done, Sally walked over to him and laid a hand on his arm. He stilled and looked at her. "Percy, it's okay, now. You're home, sweetheart. How about you tell us where Annabeth is?"

He took a shaky breath and released it before answering. "At camp. One of us had to stay. The Romans are leaving tomorrow, but I had to come see you. I tried to use an Iris message, but it's still not working. I can't even stay. I have to go back in the morning because there's still so much to do. So many people died, and I have to go inform their families-"

Sally gripped her son's hands interrupting him. He was getting worked up again. "Shhh…It's okay, Percy. It's okay." She spoke calmly to him as she led over to the couch and had him sit down. Paul watched in amazement. Percy hardly looked like the same person. His frame had filled out. He had grown to at least six feet tall, maybe an inch or so over that, and Paul knew that once he regained some weight, that Percy would look like the powerhouse that he was. Sally leaned over to kiss Percy's forehead. "I'm going to get you some cookies. Just relax. You're safe at home now. I'll be right back." She looked at Paul, silently asking him to stay with Percy. Paul nodded, and she turned to head into the kitchen, glancing back at her son once before going through the doorway.

Paul looked over at his step-son. Along with everything else, his face had changed, too. He was all hard lines and sharp angles, it seemed. There were dark circles under his eyes. His cheeks had an almost sickly pallor to them, and they were slightly sunken into his face. Percy's green eyes had aged. He looked tired, worn to his soul, and a darkness that came from fighting the most vile of beings lurked in the shadows of his irises. It struck Paul again that he would never be able to understand the full extent of what Percy had been through within the past few months. There were some things that Percy would never un-see.

The change that struck Paul the hardest, though, was that Percy had stubble. At 12:17 in the afternoon, Percy Jackson had stubble. This wasn't the peach fuzz he had teased Percy about last fall. At that time, Percy could still go a couple of days or so between shavings before developing even the barest of five o'clock shadows, but that was not the case, now. That bothered Paul more than he wanted to admit. Maybe it was because shaving was one of the few "fatherly lessons" he had ever taught Percy. Paul had been a part of the Jackson's lives for such a short amount of time that driving, shaving, and a few comments on being a gentleman and being responsible with Annabeth were pretty much all that he had under his title of "dad." Now, one of those had been stolen from him.

Paul was supposed to be there for all those nicks and cuts. He was supposed to tease Percy about using a disposable razor before surprising him with an electric one once Percy started shaving daily. He was supposed to hide the nectar and ambrosia from the boy, forcing him to bear the humiliation of having a piece of toilet paper stuck to his face as they drove to school. That was going to be his job, but it was too late. Percy had stubble with no trace of scabs from a healed nick, and he would certainly have a real five o'clock shadow by dinner time. Somewhere during the past eight months, he had gotten to and past that milestone, just like how he had filled out and grown into a man. Just like how he had left any innocence he had managed to retain about this world behind when he had walked through Hell. Paul and Sally had missed it; it was stolen from them. Percy, their boy, was stolen from them, and he was sent back nearly a full-grown a man.

Percy had been staring at his hands, which looked rougher and more scarred than they had been last December. Paul cleared his throat and threw out the first question that came to mind. "Why did you thank me, Percy?"

Percy looked at him as if the answer were obvious. "For taking care of Mom. For being here. It's more than what I've done lately." He sighed and looked back down.

"My guess is that you've been doing a lot more than either of us could ever understand," Paul responded.

Percy leaned back on the couch and ran his hand through his hair, again. "Not more than you could understand, but probably more than you would want to understand," he muttered.

All the new scars bothered Paul, too, and suddenly he remembered that Percy wasn't even supposed to be able to be wounded. "I thought you had the mark of Achilles?" he asked.

Percy smirked sarcastically and let out a huff that almost sounded like a laugh just as Sally came back in the room with a plate of blue cookies and a tall glass of lemonade. "'Had' would be the key word in that sentence, Paul. When I entered the Roman camp, I had to cross the Little Tiber River, and it washed it away since it was a Greek blessing. I haven't had the mark of Achilles since June." Percy gave his mother a small smile as he slipped a couple of cookies off the plate and took a bite out of one.

Sally sat beside him and pulled his arm over to look at it. "So you decided to get a tattoo on your newly vulnerable skin to commemorate the event?" she asked with her eyebrow arched.

Percy's eyes twinkled for the first time since entering the apartment, and he actually chuckled. "Well, not exactly, Mom. It's a Roman thing. Once they make you an official member of the legion, you basically get branded. That's not a regular tattoo; that's a burn. 'SPQR' is kind of their motto. The trident symbolizes my godly parent, and the line is supposed to represent one year of service, which, well, I only had like one week of service, but they had to grant me the full year when they elected me praetor after the battle that I fought with them."

"So no other tattoos?"

Percy shook his head, smiled, and laughed. "No, Mom. No other tattoos. Just a few new scars and possibly some asthma."

Sally's eyes widened. "Asthma!"

Percy shrugged as he ate the last bite of his cookie. "I don't recommend breathing sulfuric air for eighteen days or, you know, getting cursed with a wound that goes straight through your chest sideways. It's not good for your lungs."

Sally gripped his hand as a tear fell down her cheek. "Oh Percy!"

Percy looked stricken. He dropped his second cookie back onto the plate to hug his mom. "Gods, Mom…I'm sorry. That was stupid of me. I shouldn't have said that. I'm fine. Really, I am. The curse is long gone, and with more time to rest and all, now, my lungs should clear up from all the sulfur exposure. Our best healer at camp said so. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You really don't need to worry."

Paul answered as Sally pulled back and wiped her tears. "Percy, you're not fine, and you don't have to put up a front for us. We're your family, not the demigods that look to you for leadership. You've lost a ton of weight. You've got a sickly complexion. You look like you haven't slept properly in months. You've got all these cuts, burns, scrapes, and scars. Your hair is singed. You're not okay, but it is okay that we know that."

Sally sniffed. "Paul's right, Percy. We want to help you and Annabeth. We know these last few months have the hardest of your life, and we want to help you be okay, no matter how long it takes."

Percy was fiddling with his hands, again. His feet were bouncing around. He wouldn't look at them. This was not going to be easy, Paul noted to himself. It reminded him of the weeks following the war last summer, but it was worse this time around. Paul felt a flare of white-hot anger at the gods for forcing teenagers to have to deal with things that most adults wouldn't be able to handle. It was irresponsible and wrong. In all honesty, he didn't want Percy to leave this apartment, again, especially to go back to Camp Half-Blood. He wanted to put the boy to bed, feed him three solid meals a day, and allow him any snacks he wanted in the meantime until he looked a less like a famine victim and more like a healthy high school senior. He wanted to let him pick out stupid movies at the Redbox, play video games, skateboard, swim, and toe the curfew line on date night with his girlfriend. He wanted him to worry about grades and tests not monsters and gods that were hell-bent on destroying the planet. He wanted Percy's worst nightmare to be the possibility of having to wear a pink tie to prom, not the possibility of having to survive Tartarus. He wanted Percy to think he actually could have a future, to dream of life beyond this moment, to plan for it, work for it, and have the audacity to expect it like every other seventeen-year-old kid in the world. If you had more than three conversations with Percy, then you knew that graduating high school was a back-up plan for him on the off chance that he didn't die before then. What kind of screwed up reality was that?

They sat in silence for several minutes. Paul could see his thoughts mirrored on Sally's face, and Percy must have been reading their minds because when he finally broke the silence, he quietly announced, "The Romans have a city – a safe city for demigods. There's a college and houses and jobs. Demigods who can't be safe in the mortal world can live there. They can get married and raise their families there. It's a nice place."

Something pricked at Paul's heart hearing Percy talk about this demigod city. He could hear it in his voice, these barely thought about dreams, the inkling of plans and possibilities, things that were so precious he couldn't even speak of them barely above a whisper, things that were just maybes and one days and hopes. Percy had once given hope to Hestia the goddess of the hearth and home, but it would seem that just maybe she had given it back to him in the form of this little city he had stumbled upon. Paul found himself sending up a silent prayer of thanks to the Lady of the Hearth.

"Can you go there, though, since you're Greek?" Sally asked quietly. She sounded like she was afraid of the answer, afraid that she might pop this delicate bubble that Percy was holding.

"I don't know," Percy answered honestly. "But I intend to find out. Annabeth didn't get a chance to see the place much, and I know she doesn't want to leave New York, but I thought that maybe if we could just go for college, just catch a break for a few years, you know. I mean I love it here as much as she does, but I think, at this point, I would jump at the chance to not have to worry about everything else for once. After everything she's been through, too, lately, I think she will feel the same way. Besides, maybe we can talk the gods into letting us create a Greek city over here. Then, we'd have a safe place to be later."

They continued to talk about Percy's quest, the war, the Roman camp (which Paul found out was named Camp Jupiter), the demigods that Percy had met and quested with, and several other things. Paul knew that Percy was leaving stuff out and watering down other things, but they did learn that Percy actually had been sick for several days over the past week and had been unable to hold much of anything down during that time, which explained the sheer amount of weight he had lost and the color of his skin. He assured them that Annabeth had regained some weight since Tartarus and looked better than he did. Paul teased him about being biased on that note, and he was happy to see Percy's face turn a light shade of pink as he grinned. It told him that despite everything, Percy was still Percy. A lot had changed, but deep down, he was still the same as that fourteen-year-old kid that he had met a few years ago.

At long last, Percy's stomach let out a voracious growl that took all three of them by surprise and sent Sally into a fit of laughter that left her gasping for breath while tears rolled down her cheeks. Paul and Percy laughed at her joy and amusement. It took several minutes for them to all calm down enough to speak. "Oh my word, Percy!" Sally exclaimed. "I didn't realize how much I missed that bottomless pit you call a stomach. We need to get some food into you."

Percy opened his mouth to respond, but Paul beat him to it. "How about we make this a real celebration? We'll go out for burgers and ice cream. You've only got one night, and we can have a real home cooked meal ready for you when you get back from camp, and you can bring Annabeth then, too. I really don't want to waste our short time tonight with having to cook and clean."

At the word "burgers," Percy's stomach had moaned again, and Sally's joined in at "ice cream." Clearly, the idea was met with approval.

Sally grinned sheepishly, and Percy laughed again. "That sounds great, Paul. Just let me put on a fresh shirt. I might have had to roll through a mud puddle while fighting off a monster on the way here."

"Just give me fifteen minutes. I have to get out of my writing clothes and into something presentable and run a brush through my hair," Sally responded as she popped up from the couch and headed into the back of the apartment.

Percy grinned as he stood and headed into his bedroom. Paul smiled as he watched Percy lumber down the hallway while running his fingers along the wall as if re-acquainting himself with his home. Yeah, there were going to be tough times. Percy had been through Hell and back and would have to adjust to being back home in the mortal world. They would have to be there for him, be patient with him, and carefully help him come to terms with everything that happened and all that would happen. It was a tall order, but Paul knew that Percy would be willing to work at it. He also knew that he and Sally would do whatever it took to help. For now, though, he was going to revel in the fact that Percy was home. He was also going to stop by the drug store while they were out and buy his son an electric razor because that was his job.

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Disclaimer: I do not own PJO, HOO, or TOA.

A/N: I wanted to include the pregnancy announcement, but this story had already gotten so long, that I felt like I should leave it for another story that I may or may not write. At any rate, I hope you liked this latest installment of my Paul and Percy stories, even if this one included a lot of Sally. Thanks for reading!


	5. Memorial Day

Memorial Day

Percy stood beside the lake in Central Park. A soft breeze blew through the trees, and a fish flipped into the air, landing back in the water with a delicate splash. The sun was high in the blue sky and a few wispy clouds blew across its expanse. They had come to the park for several reasons on this Monday. One, it was a beautiful day and everyone was home from work and school, and it was a good day to get baby Hope into the fresh air and sunshine. Two, it was one of the last times they would all be together before Percy left for Camp Half-Blood, and as soon as camp was over, he and Annabeth would be moving to New Rome for college. Three, there was a Memorial Day ceremony happening, and since Paul's dad had fought and died in Vietnam, Paul really liked coming to the memorial ceremonies. Two years before, Percy had even managed to go to DC with Mom and Paul to the Vietnam memorial there. They had attended the huge ceremony, then left a rose beside the wall of names where they found Paul's dad's name etched in the granite. Having been knee-deep in the war with the Titans at the time, it had been a poignant trip in many ways for him, too.

Now, a vet of two wars himself, Percy found Memorial Day was simply painful. It's not that he didn't appreciate the holiday for what it was, but it brought to mind the many who had died over the years. It reminded him of the near misses of others. It made him think of those who had been sent out on missions, never to return. Kids he had trained, befriended, and sent out based on his own decisions. People who had died protecting him, helping him, or just following him. People who had died for other reason than they were a demigod or a mortal in the wrong place at the wrong time. It reminded him of the broken looks he had received from the families of fallen demigods. Silena pale and trembling, tears cascading down her beautiful worry-wrought face, not even needing to hear the words when he returned to camp without Beckendorf, and then her own face, the light fading from her eyes as she smiled at an invisible image of her love welcoming her to the afterlife. Michael Yew who was there and gone in an instant.

The faces of those lost and those heartbroken and left behind zipped through his mind at increasing speeds. Those who he had watched take their final breaths. Those whose broken, cold bodies he had later watched burn or be buried. Those, like Beckendorf and Bianca, whose bodies were never recovered, leaving closure for those still alive hard and slow to attain.

Percy felt the sheer weight of the deaths linger in his chest. They weren't his fault. He didn't kill them, but the survivor's guilt, the guilt of leadership, hit him like a sledgehammer at times like this. The self-help therapy book that his mom had picked up for him after he finally returned home told him that when he felt the guilt to force himself to remember who the enemy truly was, who he and the others were fighting against. It also said to remember that the those who died did so for a reason that they believed in and that he should remember what that reason was and honor their memory by celebrating the victory their sacrifices brought about rather than dishonoring them by feeling guilty for their deaths. Personally, he thought that was pushy and simplistic advice, especially since these kids hadn't been volunteer soldiers but rather demi-gods who were born and thrust into the positions of defenders with little choice, but he also figured there was something to the idea. Sometimes it helped. Today, it didn't.

Percy stepped into the edge of the pond and disturbed the water enough to make a fine mist blow onto his front. The tiny droplets cooled in a light breeze, soaking into his skin that was warm from the sun. It wasn't much, but the ache in his chest did ease up and the images of dead friends and long-over battles that was skimming through his mind slowed and faded to 2D grayscale from full-color 3D.

A light splash in the water was what alerted him to the presence of his step-dad. He jerked his head in surprise to look at the man just as Paul stopped beside him. Paul didn't touch him or even look at him, just silently stood there, gazing at the pond and the park beyond it. After a moment, Percy, too, turned his gaze back to the setting before them. The silence was unruffled and comfortable, just two men taking in the day. After a few more moments, however, Paul broke the silence. "This day last year, your mom and I couldn't even bring ourselves to leave the apartment. We barely managed to get out of bed and drink some coffee, and even that we had to choke down. Annabeth came by at some point, and we all just sat in silence, hoping against all odds that we weren't supposed to be memorializing you on that day, too."

Unfounded guilt struck Percy, again, as it had been doing ever since he came home. Every holiday and special day that had passed had brought a wave of painful memories for his family and closest friends due to his absence the previous year. He, however, had nothing from that time, seeing as how he had been in a goddess-induced coma at the time. One thing he learned quickly was to direct all his anger at the injustice of the thing directly at Hera. It was not his fault he wasn't there. It was not his family and friends' fault he wasn't there. It was Hera's, regardless of how "necessary" she seemed to believe it to be; it was her actions that had caused so much pain for his loved ones for so long. Regardless of that, however, he couldn't stop the guilt that slammed into him when the rare mention of his absence was brought up.

Percy dropped his gaze to the pond. A school of minnow were bumping his ankles. He could sense other fish deeper in the pond calling out to him, wanting him to come to where they could see him and swim past. Percy ignored the calls and swallowed thickly.

Paul reached out and gripped Percy's shoulder. "Hey," he whispered. "I wasn't trying to make you feel bad. I was trying to point out how happy your mother and I are that you are here with us today."

Percy glanced over at Paul and gave him a tight grin. "I know," he answered.

Paul squeezed his shoulder then removed his hand. "Actually, I wanted to say that you remind me of my Uncle Cary."

Percy straightened and looked fully at Paul. "He was the one who fought in Vietnam, right?"

Paul stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded. "Yeah…He was sent back home with Dad's body since he was my grandparents' last son."

Percy looked back out at the trees and crossed his arms. "Reyna and Frank were talking about that law a few months ago. They want to implement something similar in New Rome and Camp Jupiter."

Paul nodded in response, still distracted by his thoughts. Percy glanced over, again. "Sorry," he started, "I didn't mean to change the subject. What about your uncle?"

Paul took a breath and looked absently at a young family on the far shore who were skipping rocks. "Uncle Cary was an officer, not a high-ranking one, but he had men under him. Anyway, about six months before he was shipped home, he had taken his men out on patrol. They didn't expect to see any action, but when they reached the furthest point from the base, they were attacked. Uncle Cary did all he could to get his ten men to safety, but they were out in the open, too far from base for help to actually help, and three of his men were killed. Two more sustained critical injuries and were sent home, and another two suffered minor injuries and were laid up for several days to recover. Uncle Cary wasn't injured, but he had effectively lost half of his team in the ten-minute fire-fight. The investigation proved that he followed all procedures and did everything in his power to get everyone to safety. He was even commended for his courageous efforts because he had ordered the men to retreat while he covered them with hand grenades and his rifle. To top it off, while he was running to safety, he picked up one of the critically injured men and carried him to safety all the while radioing for back-up and extraction. That man lost his arm but lived because of my uncle.

"But when he found out that my dad – his brother – had died, Uncle Cary fell into a depression that he was never able to come out of. Grammie once told me that he was never the same after he came home. He started chain smoking and drinking heavily. He held down a job and kept up his responsibilities, but he never married, never had kids, and just never recovered from what all he had seen and done. Eventually his lungs and liver gave out on him, and he passed away in '98.

"He was always kind to me, loved me, spent time with me, told me about my dad and the hijinks the two of them would get up to as kids, but there was always a darkness that lingered in his eyes, a sadness he couldn't escape. Mom told me that he would sometimes call her in the wee hours, drunk, and alternating between crying and yelling about his nightmares and the atrocities of war."

Paul got quiet, and Percy didn't say anything, just taking in all that he had just heard. Paul had mentioned his war hero uncle before, but never had he gone into such detail. It was a terrible story, but Percy was most disturbed by how much it didn't shock him. He spent more nights lying awake, fighting back nightmares and desperately wishing his memories away than he cared to admit. Some days he would slip off to swim as deep and as fast as he could for as long as he could just to try to escape it and exhaust himself to the point that his brain would be physically incapable of dragging up everything. Annabeth had once commented that he was going to swim the globe in an attempt to escape his own mind. On his worst days, he didn't think she was too far off the mark.

Paul kicked his foot out and flicked water a few feet in front of him. The school of minnow rushed off in a panic. "I see that same sadness lingering in your gaze a lot. I can't pretend to know what you or Annabeth or any of the other kids have gone through, no more than I have ever been able to know what my uncle experienced. I know that you'll never be able to un-see or undo any of it, and I know that today is a hard day. My uncle would drink himself into a stupor every Memorial Day." He was quiet for a few moments, trying to gather his thoughts. "I just want you to know, Percy, that there's a lot of life still to live and that it's worth living. Don't forget that. My uncle may have come home from the war, but the war came with him – and it never left. He stayed locked in battle with it until the day he died. It destroyed him. Don't let that be you. Don't let the Titans or Giants or Tartarus win the battle of your mind. I know you're working hard to get past it, and I'm proud of you and all the strides you're making to that end. I just wanted to take a moment to encourage you on a day where it would be so easy to throw in the towel. We're here for you, Percy – you and Annabeth."

Paul squeezed Percy's shoulder once more then turned to leave. He was halfway back to the picnic blanket that Sally had spread under a tree that was twenty yards away when Percy suddenly turned and jogged towards his step-father. "Paul!" he called. Paul stopped and turned around. Percy stopped next to him and pulled the man into a fierce hug. "Thanks," he whispered.

Paul returned the hug just as fiercely. "Anytime, son," he answered. The pair pulled apart, and Percy scuffed the toe of his shoe on the ground and rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly at Paul. Paul smirked and clasped Percy's shoulder, dragging to his side and steering him towards the blanket. "Come on. Sally brought blue cookies."

Percy smiled his first real smile in days, pushed Paul's arm off his shoulders, and took off at a sprint towards the blanket where his mom and Annabeth were sitting, playing with baby Hope's wiggling toes. "Beat 'cha there, old man!" he called back. Paul just laughed and jogged to catch up.

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Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson.

A/N: I got this idea and started writing in on Memorial Day (US), which was five days ago. It's finally finished, and here it is for your perusal.

To all those who have fought and died for our freedom, thank you for your sacrifice. To those left behind, may God bless you and comfort you.


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